the nightmares of midnight thoughts
by simplyceltoast
Summary: What was Keith doing here? He understood that Keith was a little insane when it came to combat, yeah, but wouldn’t it be clear to him he didn’t have to come in here this late at night because he was already good? He glanced nervously over a shoulder at least until he heard Keith make a sort of broken sound, and suddenly all of Lance’s motivation was focused on something else.
1. chapter one

Keith's nightmare is similar to most nightmares he has dreamt in the past. It's theme is based on loneliness and pointlessness. Hopelessness surrounds him in the dream.

The first thing he can remember is being in his red paladin armor. The familiar undersuit tight against his sensitive skin, the weight of the armor on top. It was comforting and not at all restrictive. It did nothing to comfort him when he opened his eyes. In front of him, he had no idea where to look. He was free-floating, legs and arms extended in the gravity-less space.

The darkness felt suffocating despite the blinding light of the too-close sun. And it was hot. It was way too hot. The sticky, slick sweat had nowhere to go under his armor. It only made him more anxious. He rapidly looked around, pieces of rock and scrap metal, from what he couldn't see, floated through the space. A terrible thing must've happened here.

After what seemed like an eternity of floating, a shout tore through his intercom. It was so loud and painful, Keith wanted to rip the helmet off his head from the scare. From a ship, the sight might be been peaceful, the sun glowing almost orange, reflecting off of every single surface in sight.

Keith, however, only felt dread.

The scream was unmistakably Shiro's, followed by sounds of the team shouting for him. Cold, uneasy chills shook his spine. He wanted to throw up. The sound was something he never wanted to hear again. Keith could feel his chest heavily faster and faster, his vision blurring as he looked around for the team. He was still stranded, floating.

Something tugged at his brain, a want, no a need to let himself float away into Oblivion. Some part of him believed he wouldn't be missed. The screams of his friends shook another tremor threw his bones. With rapid breaths and a lack of oxygen, he activated his suit's thrusters.

For a moment, he felt like he was moving, but when he looked at the debris around him, he hadn't moved at all. He cried out, wanting to swear but incapable of making any words at all. He wanted to respond to his friends. He clenched his jaw so tightly he felt it would crack. With the sun now behind him, it dawned on him that the heat must have rendered his thrusters useless.

This time, when he shouted, the agony in his voice was unmistakably a cry of loss. He didn't want to give up, but he felt stupid. How could he let himself end up here? Where was red? Why did he abandon the others when they needed help? He repeatedly tried to engage the thrusters, anger coursing through him until he felt like he was on fire.

Maybe he was. Maybe the sun had already swallowed him whole and all of this was just an illusion. Maybe he was already dead. He felt cold tears drip from his eyes and a drop of saliva on the corner of his lips.

And then he was falling.

. . . * . . .

Keith awoke with a panic, his hands suddenly coming down to grip the blue, thin sheets of his bed. Sweat drenched his back, his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin. For a moment, he could still feel the armor. He was still blinded by the light and unable to breath from the panic in his chest. He trembled violently, hands rushing back up to shake through his dark raven hair. Tangles caught his fingers on their way down the back of his head, so his hands remained where they were.

His breathing sounded abnormal and even frightened himself. It took him a full three minutes until he could actually see his room. It was dark, but the familiar emptiness almost had the ability to calm him for once. The floor was barren, but clean. It was almost surreal, looking around.

It all felt wrong. The walls looked too tall, too close and the wrong color. The red jacket hanging on the door no longer felt like his, but a strangers. His hands finally let go of his hair, aching and he realized how tightly he had been holding on. His scalp burned along with the remaining fear in his chest. He looked back down at the shape of his legs under the covers. The muscle was clear, but the outline still looked wrong.

He felt sick when the guilt hit him. He choked out a whine, his bare, pale arms wrapping around his stomach as he curled in on himself. Keith didn't breathe for a few seconds until he took in a shuddering breath. He felt disgusting and worthless. The dream might not have been real, but he should have been there for them. He felt... Useless to the team.

Something about the hazy dream convinced him he was in the wrong place. He thought of Shiro, the great leader. Hunk, the lovable boy who always cheered everyone up. Pidge, the genius and mind. Lance, the soul and…

He cried silently. It felt like something was gripping his heart and lungs, choking him until he faded back into the dream world. Keith rocked quietly, shaking for a time he couldn't name.

They didn't need him here, he didn't contribute anything but anger and put people's lives in danger when he messed up. He had to be better. He had to be better in order to save them. Still trembling, he slowly pulled back the blanket and stood up. He felt faint, as if he had a fever. His vision wasn't well focused either, but he stumbled to the door anyway.

He hesitated at the handle, a sense of loneliness again coming over him just like the beginning of the dream. He let out another unsteady breath and opened the door carefully.

Keith peered into the hallway. The castle was really creepy at night. Well, in space there was never a night or day, but the feeling of knowing everyone was asleep made him feel uneasy. It was easier this way, and made him feel more comfortable walking around. He always felt unwelcome with the others.

With no one in sight, he stepped into the hallway. He walked as if he was on autopilot and took the same direction towards the same place as he does every single day. He was walking towards the training room. The only place that accepted him and challenged him in a way that did not hurt anyone. It was nothing but him and the sound of his feet walking down the empty hallway.

A frightening feeling edged it's way into his mind and he walked a little faster. He had to get there. Keith felt as if someone or something was watching him. The training room was where he felt safe because he knew he was doing a good thing. He was becoming a better person there. He almost walked right past the room in his daze, but the big doors seemed to calm his insecurities. It was just another night like any other.

. . . * . . .

If Lance was entirely honest with himself about what his recurring dreams were about, then he'd break. That was the last thing anyone wanted. The last thing anyone needed. They had enough to deal with asthe fricking protectorsof thewhole fricking galaxy-no one had time to deal with an impatient, assholish Cuban teenager and his insecurities. Or at least, that was what he kept telling himself. He didn't matter in the whole scheme of things. He was just... A little... Insignificant... Speck.

Hell, people would probably try to tell him that he was a part of the Legendary Defender Voltron- but was he really? What did he provide for the team except for problems they had to fix? He was dumb enough that he had let agirlmess with his heart andstealhis lion. And then he couldn't even escape to go get it back himself. The others had to get it. Because Nyma had chained him to a tree. Because... he was just plain stupid.

Lance liked to say things to attempt to make himself feel a little more important, but it was always shut down as swiftly as it was put up. A cool ninja sharpshooter? Nope, a silly, soft-hearted goofball. Okay, that was great and everything, buthow does that help defeat Zarkon and reclaim thefucking galaxy from a horrible destruction? It didn't. That was the point. If Lance was truly what people told him, he did absolutely nothing for the good of the universe.

And that was what he would say his dream was about. If anyone asked. Which no one did. He'd say,"I dreamt I was entirely useless,"and someone would just laugh and say, "Well, you're not dreaming, Lance. It's true."

And Lance would just smile because they probably meant it as a "tease" or a "joke" and they'd never know exactly how much he believed it because he was supposed to be the silly soft-hearted goofball they told him he was.

And hell yeah, it hurt, but nobody would know because they shouldn't have yet another problem of Lance's to solve. So he'd proceed to the training room late in the middle of the night, when no one would know, and fight the Guardian. Coran had always told him to avoid fighting it without someone watching, just in case he got seriously hurt- but he didn't care. At least he'd be feeling something else.

So that was what Lance was doing that night. He was aiming his bayard at the fierce robot, who he had set to some ridiculous level. He had been able to beat it all the way up to that level- not that he bragged about it to anyone, because then they'd be confused as to when Lance was up and doing it. His breath was heavy and he had a slash across his cheek. It'd probably be hard to hide, but Lance was decently skilled with concealing things, so he'd manage.

But then the training room's doors slid open and he froze in place for only a moment. A moment of thinking,Ah shit ass fuck-and then sprinting to the nearby Guardian shut down button, which he slammed with a slightly trembling hand. His forehead was slick with sweat, little spikes of his mahogany hair sticking to his skin and making him feel even warmer than he was.

Keith could have dove through the doors as they slid open. The familiarity of the tall, white walls and reflective floor was the closest place to home that he knew. His chest felt like it was collapsing into himself as he stuck a hand out on the wall neighboring the automatic doors. He heaved, the sick feeling still clinging to his stomach. He stared down at his own bare feet. They looked so out of place on the pristine floor. Something in his head made him want to tear his hair out, it hurt so damn much.

With another soft, choked cry, he slammed his other hand into the wall. His knuckles burned and stung from the impact, but something about it appealed to the pain in his chest. Something sickly. An angered groan forced itself from his mouth. The overwhelming fear from before was starting to anger him.God, why was he so fucking useless?!He closed his aching eyes and let his head drop onto his arms. He wanted to go home, but he didn't know where his home was.

Lance was staring on in pure disbelief.What was Keith doing here? He understood that Keith was a little insane when it came to combat, yeah, but wouldn't it be clear to him he didn't have to come in here this late at night because he was already good? He glanced nervously over a shoulder at least until he heard Keith make a sort of broken sound, and suddenly all of Lance's motivation for being in this training room was focused on something else entirely.

He started to walk closer in worried silence, licking his lips nervously before gently reaching out to put a soft, slender hand on the red paladin's shoulder. "Keith… Are you-?"

Keith violently turned over his shoulder. He launched himself away so quickly he stumbled on his feet, falling flat with his hands ready to catch his fall. Everything happened so quickly, it was hard to see him turn back to face Lance until he was searching by his side for his Bayard. He swore loudly when his weapon didn't appear. In his dazed state, he forgot to bring any weapon to actually train with.

His eyes were full of fear. The kind of fear you would see in one's eyes before they disappeared from the living. He frantically looked around, searching the figure in front of him without actually looking. To him, Lance was a stranger. He didn't see the friendly face he normally saw, but he saw death. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes. It felt like he was being ripped open from the panic. His pupils were dilated and uncoordinated. He whined and held up his arms, covering his face with his forearms.

Lance immediately knelt, putting himself on Keith's level and his hands in the air. "Ohjeez-Keith hey it's okay you're alright, I'm not gonna hurt you. Hey, hey." He didn't touch him. He had been around people that had panic attacks before, and knew that the last thing he should do is touch them without their permission. He probably shouldn't have in the first place- but he didn't know what was going on with Keith in that moment. Guilt crawled up in his throat but he shoved it away. He couldn't deal with that right now. Keith needed him.

"It's okay. Look at me, Keith. It's just me. You're alright," he murmured softly, putting his hands on the floor as he settled a little bit, blue eyes as gentle as could be in this moment. "You're safe."

Keith slowly moved his arms at the sound of Lance's voice. His teary eyes looked lost, but found their way to meet the other paladin's. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, observing Lance's outfit and concerned expression. "L-Lance? Lance why are you here? What's…"

His head jerked to the side, taking in his surroundings with a clearer mind. He didn't remember coming into the training room.God, his head hurts.He groaned and rubbed his head with a gloveless hand. His hair felt gross under his palm, tangled and drenched in sweat. He suddenly felt guilt and embarrassment. Nightmares were a common occurrence, so he regularly went to the training room at night. He wasn't sure why Lance was here this time, but he didn't want the paladin to see him in this state. He didn't want the others to see him as weak when he already knew how little he actually helped Voltron's cause. He shuddered. "I'm sorry." He spat out, voice quiet.

"Don't worry about it. I uh, was just uh, working out a little. Couldn't sleep." The blue paladin swept a hand in a dismissive gesture before moving a little closer. "Are you okay? What's up?" he asked, his expression softer than Keith had possibly ever seen. His dark brows furrowed as he took in the sight of Keith-reallytook in the sight of Keith- his messy hair and the way his deep violet eyes looked genuinely worried him. He had always viewed him as strong and up for any challenge, and to see him like this- well, it hurt Lance's heart.

Keith wanted to yell at him, to shout at him to go away. He wanted to scream at him that he was fine, that nothing was ever wrong with him. He knew he couldn't when he saw the emotion swirling in Lance's eyes.

Somehow, the tension in him released and he fell back against the wall. He suddenly felt weak and sluggish. His eyes fluttered tiredly. "I don't know." He muttered. His gloveless hands scratches against the flat, beautiful floor underneath him. He couldn't bring himself to look back up at Lance.

Lance's blue eyes grew a little sadder, a little gentler. He reached a tan hand out hesitantly, pausing for a moment before asking, "Why don't you come with me for a sec? We'll get you something to drink… maybe something to eat. And you can tell me what's going on in your own time. Okay?" He gave a reassuring smile, or the best one that he could, given the circumstances. "We'll figure it out together."


	2. chapter two

Lance had gently helped Keith to his feet, a hand resting gently on the small of his back. The red paladin was clinging to his own shirt tightly, a terrified look in his eye, something comparable to an animal that had been cornered in its own moment of vulnerability. Something burning in his chest with the urge to comfort the young male ignited and refused to stop, as if it wasn't already made up in Lance's mind that he wouldn't do everything in his power to see those violet eyes glittering like the stars again.

He licked his lips momentarily, wondering if he should say something, but hesitated. He knew that his and Keith's relationship was pretty rocky, and alongside that, most of their troubles were his fault. He needed to be careful with what he said, otherwise he'd end up either damaging him or their relationship further.

"We're almost to the kitchen," Lance said softly, giving his back a gentle rub before lowering his hand. "Maybe it'll help you clear your mind a little. These long dark hallways can be kinda scary, can't they?" He glanced at Keith with a gentle, mostly reassuring smile.

Whatever problems he had with himself that night were forgotten; his teammate needed him to be strong, and letting himself dissolve into that pain like that was anything but.

Keith looked up from the entrancing patterns on the floor, hearing and recognizing Lance's voice for what felt like the first time. His mouth went dry as he processed. It was Lance? Wait, why was Lance helping him? Didn't he hate him? A slight jitter of anxiety rolled over his shoulders before he shrugged them forcibly, glancing away.

Something hardened in his throat as he spotted Lance's reaction out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't as if he didn't appreciate that Lance was trying to be there for him, it was just that no one ever had been there before, other than Shiro. He didn't expect it, especially not from the blue paladin that had been on his ass from the start.

Lance's bright, soothing sort of expression barely flickered, but something did change in those deep blue eyes. He ran his hand through his mahogany curls with a slight exhale, then dropped his hand as they reached the kitchen door. This was to be expected. The mullet-headed teen had the right not to expect anything from him, anyway. Not that he should, though. He cared for Keith, even though he did an admittedly shitty job at showing it.

He pressed his palm against the touch pad and the door opened, his lips twitching upwards as he tried to make light of the situation. "Hunk locks this place up tighter than Alcatraz," he commented, watching Keith walk in before following.

The red paladin frowned. "What's Alcatraz?" he asked, real and genuine confusion flickering across his facial features as he turned back to Lance.

He blinked in reply, smirking a bit as he opened his mouth to make some witty, probably rude response, but quickly closed it again as he rethought about the situation. "It's uh... a really old, supposedly inescapable prison. Some real bad dudes got locked up in there," he nodded factually, a content glint in his eyes that read,'I've watched far too many prison movies.'

Keith frowned a bit deeper, giving a slight nod. His own thoughts were flicking from topic to topic, adrenaline racing through his veins. "I'd be able to break out of it," he stated, completely sure of himself in that thought. He wasn't truly sure about anything else. It was strange, his mind was focusing on the small things rather than the bigger things, like he couldn't believe he was in this kitchen right now, talking to Lance.

He quietly approached one of the floating stools hovering around the island bar, pressing his hand against the seat. He needed to calm himself down- he needed to focus on one thing, and one thing alone.

"Lance. Tell me about yourself," he grit out, the words spilling from his lips before he could actually decide on them. His brain had decided to be just that cooperative right now. Oh, well.

"You want me to talk to you about me? Are you sure?" Lance was blinking in confusion, wildly shocked that Keith would actually ask him to talk about himself. He always seemed to agree that he never stopped yammering about something that had happened to him in his life, so to be actually asked? Wow, what a wild card.

Receiving a frustrated, sharp nod and glance from the red paladin, he scrambled for words. "Uuuuh-"

"Just anything. About you. I need to focus on something." With that, he turned his gaze to Lance, his violet gaze unflinching but somewhat twitchy. It went up, down, left, right left right up and back him again.

"O-oh, uh, o-okay. Um, my name is Lance McClain, I was born in Cuba." He paused a moment, struggling to find words to say before just letting his brain flow and his mouth move.

"My dad came to Cuba 'cus he was like, a soldier. And he met my mom cuz she was a dancer at one of the bars they stopped at. It's kind of one of those like stereotypical away-from-home soldier relationship stories. They fell in love and had a kid and got married so fast that their baby was four months away before he had to go back home again.

"That was my brother Marco. Once he was born my dad started to try and get him and my mom visas, but none of it was working out so he just ended up moving to Cuba and living there with my mama and little baby Marco. They were happy and everything, and of course then Luis and Veronica came, one after the other, and then Maria and I.

"Hehe, not a lot of people know this, but I'm a twin. I'm the younger of the two, the baby of the family. Ria's shyer and quieter than I am, but from what I know right now I'm pretty sure she's got a damn good boyfriend taking care of her in my place for the moment." He licked his lips and his blue eyes flickered for a moment, glancing up to Keith somewhat nervously.

The red paladin had his eyes closed and was leaning against the bar, his head tilted back slightly. He was listening and focusing on Lance's words, and his lips twitched a bit when he stopped. "Keep going."

"Uuhhh, okay. Um, I grew up knowing the beach and the storms and boating and surfing and swimming. My favorite color is grey, not like, the flat grey, but like the grey when the storm is settling in and you can see that it hasn't made its way all the way off to the distance yet, but it's getting there, and like, if you were to look above your head it's like your shadow is just hovering over you, celebrating in the fact that it's above you for those few couple of moments..." He paused, closing his own eyes as he imagined the color himself. He felt himself reaching for the sky that he hadn't seen in what was now several months, not realizing until he opened his eyes, cleared his throat, and forced his hand back down.

"I dunno, maybe it's why I like rain so much." Lance shrugged. "Other than the weather gets so nice." He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck nervously, before he heard Keith sigh in a sort of relief.

He had grown less and less tense as the blue paladin had continued to speak, finding himself imagining what he was describing. He bit his lower lip a moment as the pictures fluttered away, his mind now back to its usual, calm pace. He lifted his purple gaze to the Cuban male, a light, thankful smirk gracing his lips.

"Thanks, Lance, you helped a lot," he murmured, glancing away as he folded his arms and tucked his gloveless hands into the crevices. Just listening to Lance talk about Lance was... comforting, for some reason. Maybe it was because of how deeply he thought things through. It was funny, because he never thought he could expect that from the energetic blue paladin.

Lance's mouth fell open momentarily, "I did?" He blinked, snapped out of it, snorted with a playful grin. "Oh, I mean, of course I did! I'm great, aren't I? Lance, the Tailor, the Sharpshooter, and the, uh... The guy that helped Keith out a lot!! Yeah!" He pumped his fist into the air, blue eyes sparkling.

Keith snorted a bit, shaking his head. "Yeah. You sure are great, Lance. Wow." His voice was flat, but the slight lilt it had gave it away that he might be trying to be genuine, or that he was just amused. He brushed raven black hair out of his eyes and smirked, watching Lance grin like an idiot with a sort of warmth in his chest. Maybe he wasn't as irritating as he thought he was.

Lance squinted, but he was still smiling. "I can't tell if that's serious or not and it somewhat scares me," he laughs, grinning even brighter as Keith joined in. They shared in the brief joy of the moment before it went quiet for a while, the red paladin sipping at a drink the sharpshooter had given him.

"You know, you never did tell me quite what happened," Lance spoke, putting his lips to his own glass. He was serious now, his navy blue gaze resting on the male before him.

Keith paused a moment, looking up to meet Lance's gaze. "What? What do you mean?" he asked, shifting his grip on the cup and sitting a little more upright.

"Why did you come running into the training room like that?" he murmured, lowering his cup as he peered at Keith. "I've never seen you like that before. You're usually so..." He faltered, searching for a word. "Unafraid of everything."

Keith flinched momentarily, then scoffed as he looked away. "Just because I have anger issues doesn't mean I never get scared, Lance." He frowned, brushing his hair behind his ear.

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying! I just... I don't know. I've just never seen you like that. It scared me too. I..." He paused, licked his lips, and met Keith's gaze. "I just wanna make sure you're okay."

Keith's mouth opened, then shut, his face comforting into a short wince before he sighed. "I... I am okay. Now. I just... I had a nightmare, and it was just like... one of those things where I woke up, and I thought about it more than I should have and I just..." His grip tightened on his cup. He didn't know what to say anymore. He didn't have the right words.

Lance's expression softened a bit. "And you were scared," he murmured, looking at the ground below Keith's feet briefly before he looked at him, with a distanced, thoughtful look in his violet eyes.

"Y-yeah. I was... scared. Scared of... not being enough. Scared of failing. Scared that I already have failed." His voice was quiet, his lips drawing into a tight line. "I just... yeah." Keith forced himself to look away from those understanding eyes. He had never opened up to anyone like this before. He felt like he had said everything he could say. He never knew that Lance would the this... understanding. But why did he understand? Why did he know all the right things to say?

The blue paladin paused, nodded. He could sense that the other make was done talking now- he had said everything he could express. So he picked it up for him. "It's okay to be scared, but... don't doubt your value to this team, Keith. You won't fail us, you're exactly what this team needs, and as long as you stick to that mentality, everything's gonna work out just fine. Besides," he winked, " you got a crazy space uncle, a gorgeous space princess, a lil green nerd, a big huggable chef, and a great big brother looking after you. You've got a squad to last to the end of the galaxy, Keith. Don't doubt that. "

"And I've got you."

"Haha- wait, what?"

"You forgot yourself. On the list."

"Oh. I did? Oh. Well I also meant to say that you've got a pretty stylin' sexy-hot sharpshooter on your side, too." Lance winked, snapping his finger guns at his team mate playfully.

Keith rolled his eyes and chuckled with a soft smile, setting his glass down quietly. His eyes were distant for a few moments before he walked over to the sharpshooter in question and gently clasped his arm, like he did with Shiro. He looked at him for a few moments in silence before practically whispering, "Thanks, Lance," and heading off to bed again without another word.

The blue paladin just stood there as he watched him go, his blue eyes glittering faintly. "Of course, Keith." He let loose a quiet breath, turning away from the door after it had closed and raising his cup back to his lips.

"Of course."


	3. chapter three

It had been what felt like months since they had seen Shiro, even though in reality it had only been a few days. What remained of Voltron often set out on long, physically and emotionally draining searches, all of which turned out empty-handed. Princess Allura had set up plans and schedules- who would look when, where, and for how long.

Usually, they went alone, since there wasn't much of a Galran threat anymore. They had defeated Zarkon. At least one of their problems had been solved. Lance had commented that ' _it feels like getting rid of one has only gotten us a long list of harder and more complicated ones.'_

Keith stood in the training room, sword clutched in one of his ivory hands. He had been training for a few hours now, having started immediately after his most recent outing in the attempt to find his black paladin. He had always insisted on going out for longer than he was supposed to, to the point where the next paladin going out had to physically drag him back.

He was now fighting the Guardian like it was his last stand, insisting upon going up level after level after defeating every single one. He was around level ten right now, having started at one earlier that day. He had just finished the most recent simulation of the Altean training machine, and was taking a moment to rest his inexplicably tired muscles. He had exerted himself to the point where he was shaking, breath heavy.

His violet gaze flicked to Lance, who was sitting on a bench not far from the edge of the ring. He had snapped at the Cuban male for paying too much attention to him, so he had backed off, which was incredibly strange. His mahogany curls fell over his quiet blue eyes, and he was being oddly silent. If Lance wanted to sit in and watch, Keith wouldn't argue, it just meant he had someone to monitor and coach him.

The blue paladin glanced up from his device, sweeping up a water bottle from where he had set it beside him. "Need a drink?" he asked, quirking a brow. He could feel the tension in the air, probably because Keith clearly didn't want him here. He couldn't really tell from the look in the other male's eyes, mostly because it looked to be a mix of _'I'm going to destroy you,'_ and _'I'm going to devour you whole.'_

Lance was trying not to take offense, because he knew how much Keith was hurting. It would be like if Lance had lost Hunk. They were best friends, and there was very little that got between them. It was the same way with Keith and Shiro, and to think that they may even have a whole galaxy between them... A shudder ran up his spine at the thought of how much it would hurt. He tried to ignore it.

"Yeah," Keith huffed, holding up a hand to catch the bottle when Lance threw it. He unscrewed the lid as he lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a long, satisfying sip.

The Cuban teen watched him, conflicting emotions writhing in the center of his gut. He hated to see Keith hurt himself like this, but he didn't want to piss him off more by telling him to stop. Also, it would be strongly hypocritical. Lance liked to be lazy, lounging and napping around the castle, but when he was in a bad mood, the training room was his new favorite not-so-chill spot.

No one usually cared when it came to Lance, though- all they were probably thinking was, _'Okay, wow, he's training like a real paladin of Voltron would, good. At least he's getting his shit together.'_

He caught the water bottle when the part-Galran male threw it back, blinking when he spoke.

"Start the next simulation, Lance."

"W-wait, are you sure you don't wanna- I mean, you've been doing this for hours- you could go-"

"Start the next _simulation_ , Lance," Keith repeated, his red sword appearing in his hand. His voice was rough and angry now, no longer a request, but an order.

He needed to deal with this the only way he knew how. If Lance was going to try and get in his way, fuck him. He didn't need him. He didn't need anyone. He just... needed Shiro. He wanted him back. Something crumpled inside of him, the burning sensation in his eyes growing ever stronger.

He was no longer shaking from exhaustion, instead he was shaking from anger. Lance hadn't moved, and was instead staring at him with sad, deep blue eyes that made his throat feel hollow. Like he didn't have words to say. And he hadn't in the first place.

A flinch rode up his spine. Did Lance pity him? Is that why he was looking at him like that? Because he felt bad? He scowled, fist clenching tighter around his sword's handle.

"Don't look at me like that," he snapped, violet eyes aflame with pain and pure fury. "Start the _fucking_ simulation."

The blue paladin dropped his gaze as pure sorrow swelled through him in one swift wave. He felt like he couldn't breathe or speak. He just nodded instead, and silently pressed the button to begin the next level of the training machine. He didn't look back up at Keith. He physically couldn't anymore.

Keith didn't want him to even look at him now.

That was the thought that kept running through his head, over and over and over.

 _Don't look at him._

 _Don't look at him, he hates you._

 _Don't look at him, he hates you because this is all your fault._

 _You should have been better._

Lance dropped his face into his hands, knowing that Keith was far too distracted with the robot and far too angry at him to care whatever the hell he was doing. He wasn't crying, he wouldn't cry. He just was letting his thoughts run wild, violent stallions that wanted to go nowhere but into the dark, yanking and foaming at the mouths.

Yes, to say in the quickest way, Keith was distracted.

The Guardian was ruthless at this level. It was good that Lance was here, because it could only be turned off manually by someone at the control panel if it wasn't defeated. Usually Keith had no trouble on his own with the Altean robot, but maybe it was the anger and the pain overwhelming him, because today... today was different.

The robot moved quickly and silently, charging at Keith with rapid footsteps. It never stopped attacking- there were brief moments where Keith should have noticed an opening, should have laid in his own attack rather than a constant defense, but he missed it. Maybe it was because of the tears in his eyes.

 _Slam. Cut, cut, parry, swipe, miss._

 _Slam, parry, parry, cut, defend, miss._

 _ **SLAM.**_ _Parry, parry. Cut defend miss._

The routine was flying faster and faster through Keith's head. He wasn't focused. He realized he had started to do the wrong things at the wrong times and suddenly-

He felt a sword, like a hot flame, scrape across the side of his throat, and the sound he made scared the ever-loving shit out of Lance.

The blue paladin leapt into the arena without a second thought or a set of training armor, despite where his thoughts had been straying before. He figured, though, if he died in this situation it wouldn't turn out well for anyone. A dazed and frightened mullet-headed teenager versus a robot specifically made to fight until it dies?

Yeah, no. At least Lance had somewhat of a clear head. He was used to fighting those thoughts. In fact, he was always fighting those thoughts. Now he had a real reason to defeat them.

His blue assault rifle appeared into his hands as soon as he called upon it, and he immediately began firing at the robot, trying to call it's attention away from the red paladin it was pursuing.

 _'Let him get out of here,'_ Lance thought, his blue eagle eyes watching the red paladin run, _'get some help.'_ He could see the crimson coming from the boy's pale neck and dripping from his suit and onto the floor, and it scared him. The Guardian had then started to recognize Lance was shooting at it, and was headed in his direction instead.

For being an advanced alien technology, this robot sure was stupid. Lance decided that he would utilize that fact to bring some light to that dark time.

 _"Hola, pendejo! Tú eres fuerte, pero no intelligente!"_ He laughed, a devious grin playing with his face as he continued to shoot at the thing that was charging at him from the other side of the arena. It was holding its shield up to block its face from the blasts, so he decided to aim for its feet instead.

 _"Sí, sí, tú eres abburido y stupído y muy feo. Sí, yo guapo, eres feo."_ He continued his taunts as the robot stumbled and fell over its own scorched feet, a grin spreading further and further across his face as the poor thing skidded to a stop before him.

"Congratulations, challenger! You have defeated: Level Eleven. Shutting down for repairs."

Lance chuckled a bit as he lowered his weapon, letting it disappear once more as he put a foot upon the Guardian's head. _"Olé, amigo."_

He huffed softly, taking a step back as it began to slide into a chute where it would be recycled and made into another training robot. His gaze lifted and there he saw Keith, staring at him with huge, misty grey-violet eyes and a hand pressed to the cut on the side of his neck.

And then the blue paladin was in motion again,darting over and placing his own, mocha-colored, slender hand on top of Keith's. "Come on, _muchacho,_ this way." His warm, accent-laced voice was soft.

Keith's mind was a blur, and yet he felt that Lance just being there was something that he could focus on. He let Lance lead him along and into a nearby medicine bay, where there were dozens of Altean healing implements, from cures to diseases to things that, when addressed initially by Hunk, made both the princess and the advisor sputter and blush.

Lance bust up laughing when he first saw them, but there must have been something funny about it that Keith missed, because usually condoms are not a laughing matter.

They weren't what they were going for of course, but this was just how Keith's mind worked when he was in this sort of state. He was leaping from one topic to the next and wouldn't and couldn't stop on his own, unless he was alone in his room with nothing to look at or distract him.

Lance gently sat Keith down on one of the hovering cots, removing his hand only momentarily to reach for a nearby container of Altean healing bandages. They worked faster, and usually relieved the pain from the wound upon contact. He had his own experiences with the things, he usually put them on when he went to bed after having a rough day, and they were healed by the morning. If you left them on for longer, though, even the scar would heal. It was nice for him, because he was running out of concealer.

He peeled the covering off the color-shifting bandage and murmured, "Give me your hand for a sec, okay?"

Keith felt his expression contort into one of pain as he removed his bloody hand, grasping one of Lance's. "Am I going to be okay?" he whispered, feeling like a child, gazing up into tender sapphire eyes.

The other male smiled, because this was what he was the best at. Being there. Reminding them of his presence. Even though his heart hurt. "Of course you are, Keith, you're in good hands."

With his other hand, he pressed the bandage to the open, bleeding cut, watching Keith's expression relax as the pain faded away. "You might feel a little woozy," he stated, rubbing the bandage to make sure it was secure and covered the wound completely, "so I think it's best for you, especially for now, to try and get some sleep."

Keith frowned slightly as he looked at the blood on his hands. "How do you know that? I don't think Allura's used these on you before," he mumbled, glancing up briefly as Lance walked over to a nearby sink, fetching a cloth.

"Yeah, she hasn't. It said so on the package," he winked, immediately capable of pulling this statement from nowhere. If it did say so, Lance wouldn't know, because it was written in Altean. He knew from experience. When he first used it, he had no idea what it would do, but he was 'courageous' enough to try it anyway.

He ran the cloth under the water until it was soaked through, washing his own hands of Keith's blood beforehand. The other paladin was watching him quietly, his violet eyes misty.

He could have died. But Lance saved him. He drew the Guardian's attack and somehow knew how to defeat it. His emotions were hitting him harder and harder, but they were no longer anger. They were pure sadness, pure gratitude, pure... well, he didn't really know what it was.

But it sure was something, because when Lance turned to him with the wet cloth and tenderly took his wrist, beginning to wipe away the blood, his chest shuddered. He wanted to be as close to him as possible for as long as possible, because the pure tenderness and care in his eyes made him feel something that he couldn't describe.

It was quiet for a while. Keith was just watching in some strange mix of disbelief and thankfulness, his eyes hot and wet with tears that never fell. Lance was focused on his task of gently cleaning Keith up, helping him to remove his training armor and setting it aside gently.

When the Cuban male turned away, Keith licked his lips nervously. "Lance, I..."

"Don't worry about it Keith. You've gone through a lot in the past few days. You don't need to explain yourself to me, or apologize," he murmured, washing the cloth out in the sink.

"I feel like I do," Keith mumbled, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "I... " He faded, wanting to say something else, to try and prove his point, but the words never made it past his lips.

"Listen up Keith-buddy, you don't have to. But if you _want_ to, that's a different story. Either way, I can handle it." Lance turned around and moved over to him, sitting down on a chair nearby and watching him with navy blue eyes. "I don't expect you to tell me your life story, but if you want to tell it, heck, there isn't a way that I won't be willing to listen." He smiled softly, reaching out and grabbing one of Keith's hands, giving it a firm squeeze.

"After all, we are a team, aren't we?" he asked, giving a slight tilt of his head and a wink. "We need each other now, more than ever. We've got this. You've got this. You've still got a whole team behind you, even if we've... " He paused, looking for the right word to say. "Lost a member that we're looking for."

Keith looked up from their hands, a fresh set of tears appearing in his exhausted eyes. "Y-yeah." He gave a nod, realizing he was more tired than he felt. "I… I think I might want to talk to you, I just don't know when. I.. is that… okay?" A lump swelled in his throat. He didn't want it to not be okay. He wanted to stay close to Lance like this, be able to talk to him about however he felt whenever he felt it.

"Of course. There's no reason it wouldn't be." Lance smiled, and that's when Keith looked up with a shaky breath, squeezing his hand back in a thankful manner. He felt his heartbeat pick up, his chest warm, and that was when he realized he might just have feelings for none other than Lance McClain.

He opened his mouth to say something, he didn't really know what, but he was almost immediately interrupted by something in the sharpshooter's pocket blaring. It startled them more than anything, and he jolted away, tucking his hands back under his arms and making himself as small as possible.

Lance stared at him in a moment of concern, but then looked down and pulled out the device he'd been given by the advisor. His mouth opened, he looked up at Keith, and then he shut it, trying to give an apologetic sort of smile.

"I uh… gotta go. It's my turn for the Shiro hunt, Pidge says," he murmured, looking back down at the space phone, turning off the siren, and sighing softly. "I… uh. Think you should go get some sleep, and then if you want, we can talk more when I get back, okay?"

Keith swallowed hard, nodded. "O-okay." He stood up, staggering a little, and Lance stood up to steady him.

"You good?" Lance murmured, looking down at him with an undeniable softness in his eyes. He cared a lot for Keith, he just wanted to make sure that he was okay before he went anywhere.

"I'm um- yeah. I'm fine. Just… send Pidge up to find me and help me back. Or I can start making my way there on my own. Er- either way." He frowned to himself, realizing how his thoughts had become woozy and jumbled. Oh. So that was the effect of the Altean medicine patch.

Lance smiled a bit and gave a nod, then hesitated for a second. It looked like he was wondering whether he should hug him or not. Keith's violet gaze flicked up to his, and they both froze, then looked away shyly.

"Y-yeah, uh, guess I better get going then. Um. Sleep well, Keith," Lance smiled, giving a slight wave as he glanced back at him, starting for the door.

"Thank you," he called as he watched Lance exit, the lump he had just managed to swallow rising like bile.

 _Thank you._


	4. chapter four

Keith had said he'd explain everything. That he'd apologize, or do something like that. He said he would at least talk things through with Lance- and the Cuban boy waited and waited and waited for that day.

But it never really came.

And Lance was okay with that.

Because stars knew if Keith started explaining, something that he said would remind Lance of what he had been through, and that would spark a conversation, and then Keith would get worried because what the hell, the happy-go-lucky idiotic sharpshooter is actually sad? Is he just doing it for attention? Maybe he would feel like Lance was just trying to invalidate how he felt. Maybe he would think that Lance is lying, just to make him feel bad for him.

Maybe Keith would see how Lance really felt. Maybe he'd get worried.

That was what was scariest.

The blue paladin- now red- was sitting in the dining hall with his head on the table, fingers twisted through his soft, brown hair. He felt like he just wanted to sleep forever, but at the same time, he wanted to do anything but. It was in the middle of the night, usually the sort of time where Lance would get up and go off to fight the Guardian, but tonight... he was just too exhausted.

He had enough colored bruises that decorated his mocha skin, he didn't need any more. And the huge, intricate cobweb of a scar across his back was aching. It had started a while back and hadn't stopped- Lance had learned that it meant something bad was going to happen, kind of like his mama's sore knee predicting when the rain would come.

So yeah, he decided not to fight the Altean robot that night. He just needed to get away from his room. From the memories and the knick knacks and the items that it held, because he wasn't sure how long he was going to want to stay there. A lump rose in his throat. He was seriously debating leaving the team. What had he provided in the first place?

Nothing. And that was all they were really going to get. If Lance kept tagging along like this, not providing anything, what use did he actually have? Was he even helpful or did he only hold them back?

He ran his hands through his hair and over his face, rubbing it heavily with a quiet, only slightly shaky sigh. He was in his pajamas, and that meant he was wearing a white tee-shirt and boxers. The fresh bruises and old scars all over his body were visible- he tended not to wear concealer at night, especially given he only had so little left.

He didn't know how much longer he was gonna be able to hide his worries, either. His head hit the tabletop quietly, and he let himself feel the hot tears pool into his eyes and threaten to spill over. Maybe, if he left the team, he could go home. He could see his mama and his nana and Marco and Luíz and Veronica and Rachel and his little niece and nephew... and then he would never leave their sides again.

His breath hiccuped softly as he tried to make himself as small as he could be, tucking his limbs closer to his body with a shaky exhale. He was just useless to the team. Blue didn't want him, and Allura had shown much more promise with her than he ever had. And Red… well, he clearly didn't like Lance as much as he liked Keith. Whenever he tried to connect with the lion, it was a hesitant link, as if Red hardly trusted him at all, and was only trying to because he needed to.

Or at least, that was what Lance felt like.

He leant back in the seat and closed his eyes, letting wetness run down his cheeks. He needed to stop thinking things like this, he needed to get his shit together and stop whining and just be there for the rest of the team, but he felt like he physically... couldn't do that anymore. He felt like he never really had at the same time, though. He felt so weak. Like whatever he had done, whatever he had tried to say had just turned out useless.

The Cuban male dropped his face into his hands, and sat there, alone in that dark room, for a long time.

. . . * . . .

Keith hadn't slept at all that night.

But it wasn't because of anything negative- he hadn't had any nightmares and wasn't spending his time training. He was spending his time with Shiro instead.

He had explained what the team had been through since they saw him last- he talked about Lotor and his generals, the lion switches, and even some of the Blade of Marmora missions he had picked up lately- and he even spoke about Lance, at least for a little while.

When the blue-turned-red paladin's name came up, Shiro's eyebrows had quirked. "Didn't he like to say that you two were rivals or something?" he had asked, shifting a bit in his seat with a fond sort of smile.

"Heh, yeah. He also likes to pretend that our bonding moment never happened, but… he's been a lot nicer, lately," Keith had thought aloud, playing with his raven hair.

"Oh? How so?"

When Keith had started telling the stories of how Lance had been there when he needed him, first with the Guardian and then with genuinely supporting him when he took up the leader position, something in his chest had clenched. He had promised Lance that he would sit down and explain to him about why he had acted that way, but now Shiro was back and he never did.

Keith's words had stalled and his jaw had clenched when a wave of guilt washed over him. He hadn't meant to avoid the topic with Lance- they had all gotten so busy and then they had found Shiro and then he had gotten caught up with the Blade missions-

"You okay, Keith?" Shiro had asked hesitantly, his brows dipping downwards as he watched the part-Galran male. His gaze had snapped upwards as he refocused, hands fidgeting.

"U-uh, yeah. I'm okay. I just uh… got reminded of something that I need to do." He had frowned, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

"Do you mind if I ask what that something is?" the former paladin had questioned, shifting a bit in his seat. Keith looked at him and hesitated. Something in the air had shifted, as Shiro did. It felt like he had grown more tense, more unwelcome to the topic.

"Um… yeah. I just have to talk to Lance about a few things," he finally responded, giving a nod as he stood up. "I might go see if I could talk to him now. He might be awake."

Shiro had given a strange sort of smile and a nod. "You go ahead. I'll be here waiting if he isn't."

"You could try to get some sleep, too. After this, I might head myself." The black paladin had smiled back, but it was only momentarily, as he turned away and exited. "Goodnight, Shiro."

Although Shiro was acting strangely, and had been lately, Keith couldn't blame him. He had been through a lot. He was just glad he was back home with them.

But for now, Shiro wouldn't be the focus. He had to consider Lance. The happy-go-lucky boy Lance. The goofy-hearted, kind-eyed, Lance. The skilled sharpshooter Lance.

His crush, Lance.

Or at least he thought it was a crush. Keith wasn't entirely sure. He'd never really had one before.

He walked down the hall, away from Shiro's room and towards Lance's. He would check there first to see if he was asleep- if he was, he'd just wait until the morning. The black paladin paused at the door when he neared it, hesitantly lifting his hand and knocking with one of his knuckles.

"Lance? You awake?"

He paused for a long, quiet moment, receiving no response. His throat tightened a bit as another flicker of guilt burrowed its way deep into his heart, his hand lowering. He just hoped that the other paladin slept well. What they had been through lately was exhausting, and he was proud of each and every one of the team members regarding how they had handled it.

Keith waited another moment, then murmured, "Goodnight, Lance," and dismissed himself, returning to the direction he had came from. He still felt bad. Maybe getting a drink and a bite to eat would help him clear his mind from these midnight thoughts before he went to bed. He had learned from experience what happened when he drifted off thinking things like this.

The black paladin made a left turn down the next hallway to arrive at the kitchen doorway. His eyes flashed briefly in the dim lighting as he stared at the door, his thoughts flicking back to those of Lance and himself.

"Hunk has this place locked up tighter than Alcatraz," he had tried to laugh, a light dancing in those sapphire blues that had always confused Keith. How could he be so bright and merry like this all the time? Was it some sort of trick?

He quickly blinked out of it and rubbed his eyes, pressing his palm against the keypad and walking in with a heavy sigh.

Keith felt himself drift over to one of the various machines on the wall, grabbing a cup from the Altean equivalent of the dishwasher. The thing had the capability to make water out of seemingly nothing- when Coran had explained it Keith hadn't really been paying much attention, but he remembered that Lance immediately started calling it the 'H2Oinator.'

"Why H2Oinator?" Pidge had asked, a laugh escaping her as she looked at Lance. "That's not even- it doesn't even make sense!"

"Have you never seen Phineas and Ferb?" Hunk had retorted, taking the opportunity to fill up a cup of water, a grin on his face. "The evil scientist guy, he adds the word 'inator' to the end of everything-"

"THE INATORINATOR!" Lance had crowed, throwing his arms into the air and making the yellow paladin almost choke on his drink. A grin a mile wide had spread across his face, and Shiro had raised his eyebrows.

"Is 'inator' even a word?"

"It is in my book, Shiro. It is in my book."

Keith bit his lower lip quietly, filling his glass and taking a sip as he tried to clear his head. Back then, Lance had been so... different. Always smiling, always there with some sort of witty comment, always teasing. But now he was... He cleared his throat and shook his head, walking over to the refrigerator that Pidge had installed.

When they had visited the space mall, Hunk had come back with what could be considered alien versions of some of their favorite Earth foods. So while Pidge was working on the machine to power up the video game she and Lance had desperately collected gak for, she was also developing something to keep the food cold in the same way a refrigerator would.

And she did with great success - Lance had been able to even store milk from Kaltenecker in there, although Keith couldn't ever drink it. He let his gaze move past the bottles and to a tray of space cookies Hunk had made, grabbing one and starting to nibble on it before bumping the fridge closed again with his hip.

He moved back over to the counter and stood there for a moment, enjoying the nutty flavor that spread over his tongue. It was definitely a very welcome change from the strange blobby taste of food goop, and Keith would later admit that the cookies were probably his favorite thing to eat.

He hummed momentarily, looking down at the water-filled cup on the counter, and that's when his thoughts flickered back to Lance. The amount of times that they'd bickered at each other in this place, the amount of times that they'd laughed at each other in this place, and... the one time that Lance comforted him in this place.

A knot twisted in his stomach as he finished his cookie. Why did he feel so guilty? He was going to talk to Lance tomorrow about everything. Everything would be resolved then.

The black paladin picked up his cup of water and decided to take an alternate route on the way back to his bedroom. Maybe it would help him clear his head. Although he had said the same thing about getting something to eat... He winced and started for the door leading into the dining hall.

. . . * . . .

When a door slid open behind him, Lance immediately sat up, wiping at his teary eyes. He couldn't be like this in front of whoever came in- he needed to act like everything was fine-

"Lance?" It was Keith's voice that called his name, and it shook him to the core. The lights flicked on and Lance flinched, immediately raising one of his hands to shield his burning eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Haha. I don't really know. I came in here and then I think I forgot what I was doing and then I sat down and I started falling asleep-"

An ivory white hand gently lifted his chin and Lance couldn't help but shiver at how gentle the touch was. He isn't wearing his gloves, the red paladin noticed, but he said nothing, slowly lifting his gaze to meet Keith's.

Blue- grey- violet?- eyes stared back into his own, unflinching and concerned, but also guilty. Lance blinked in slight confusion. The other paladin was very close to the Cuban male, sitting on the table as if he were a bird ready to take flight, holding a cup in his other hand. He hadn't removed the other from the side of Lance's face.

"Are you okay?" Keith murmured, taking a moment to examine the other male's features. His blue eyes were distant, almost foggy. No longer were they welcoming blue depths of the ocean, they were a misty might sky just before the storm hit. And it made his chest hurt.

And the strange thing was, Keith would have never noticed it before. Now that he was this close to Lance, both physically and as a team, he swore he could feel that he felt literally everything the other was. Guilt. Shame. Pain.

Lance's mouth opened for a moment, but nothing came out. He just forced himself to close his eyes and turn his head away. Suddenly, lying was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just tired."

Keith's brow dipped downwards, and he frowned, setting his cup down and pausing briefly. He moved a bit closer to Lance, putting his hand on his shoulder. "I don't believe you," he said quietly, but his voice was soft, non-threatening, like it may have been in the past.

Lance looked back up again, eyes growing damp. He tried to fight the tears away and cleared his throat, getting to his feet and gently disengaging himself from Keith. "Yeah, u-um- just... uh, space dust." He waved a hand but then the other paladin grabbed it, pulling him back in one, swift motion.

Somehow Lance had ended up standing between Keith's legs. His hands rested on Keith's sides, where he had placed them to keep himself from falling. A blush immediately spread across his cheeks but he was frozen in place from slight shock.

"Lance, don't lie to me," Keith muttered, speaking lowly as he looked up into his eyes. A fire had ignited in the pit of his gut, not the same fire he had experienced before, but something foreign to him. He wanted to do nothing else than care for the people he loved, and that included Lance. He felt his arms drape over the other's shoulders, watched the nervous smile grace the red paladin's lips.

"I- you- Keith, I-"

"You're hurting. Tell me what's wrong." His voice was more of a croon now. It... *affected* Lance more than he'd like to admit. His throat clenched and he sighed a bit, looking down at Keith as tears formed in his eyes once more.

"I don't… really know," Lance admitted quietly, incapable of meeting his gaze. "I... I have never felt the way I do now. I mean, I have- just like, not to these extremes." When he removed his hands from Keith's sides and instead let them tug at his own hair, Keith frowned.

"What do you mean?" He didn't move his arms from the taller boy's shoulders, encouraging him a bit closer with his safe, protective presence. "How do you feel?"

The answers that Lance wanted to give were like rocks sitting in his throat. No matter how much he tried to spit them up, it was like the dread of choking prevented him from doing anything at all. His expression must have given him away because when he looked back into Keith's eyes, something about him grew sad.

"Lance, I... I don't want to force you to tell me anything you don't want to. I think I should give you time. To just... think about what you're feeling and what you want to say." The black paladin paused, reached up, and took Lance's hands within his own. "You've done the same for me, and I still haven't quite figured out what I want to say yet."

Lance's heart didn't lighten, his eyes didn't brighten, and he definitely didn't smile. He just gave a slight nod and sighed, lifting Keith's hands to the sides of his face again. "Thank you, Keith," he mumbled.

As the part-Galran male watched Lance, his heart sank. His mouth opened to say something, but he didn't know what to say. He ran his thumbs gently over his cheekbones, pausing. "Lance, I-"

"Don't worry about it. The fact that you care is deeply appreciated. I just need some time to think." The red paladin looked away, lowering his hands slowly. "I'll um... come talk to you eventually, okay?"

Keith was hesitant to withdraw, but he nodded, starting to pull his hands away. He didn't know how to fill the sudden silence that had formed between them- he realized that he never really had. Only Lance had ever tried. But now it seemed like he didn't know what to do either. A weight settled in his throat. That was scarier than Keith would like to admit.

When Lance stepped back and turned away, Keith felt words rise in his throat. Words that he definitely didn't think he would be saying, especially not to Lance. "You know, I-"

But then he was interrupted, because one of the doors into the room slid open.

"Oh jEEZ- heck it's bright in here." It was Hunk's kind, yet startled voice that rumbled as he entered. He blinked at the sight of the other paladins and his dark brow dipped in confusion. "Keith? Lance? What are you doing in here this late?"

Before Keith could even think up a response, Lance was already talking. "We both just came in to get a midnight snack. Coincidental that we're all in here at the same time, huh?" He grinned, and something in Keith's chest tightened. That was a fake smile.

But then he smiled too, and nodded. "Yeah. We were just talking for a little bit."

Lance glanced at Keith with an unreadable look in his eyes, but his smile was stagnant, not changing at all as Hunk came closer.

"Well, that's pretty nice you guys were talking. Did you try the new batch of cookies I made? Were they any good?" Hunk's expression seemed eager, content to see that the boys were getting along.

"Yep! They sure were, Hunk-buddy," Lance chirruped, stretching his arms into the air and then partially tackling him in a hug. The positively lovable Somalian male hugged him back happily, practically picking him up and off the ground in the process.

"Amazing," Keith agreed, giving a nod as he picked up his glass again and began sipping his water. Something within him strained against its bounds, wanting to hug Lance just like Hunk was.

"I think I'm beat," the red paladin mumbled into Hunk's neck, sighing softly. "Time for Lancey-Lance to head to bed. The sexy sharpshooter does need his beauty rest," he winked, pulling back and grinning up at Hunk, who smiled right back.

"Okay, sleep well Lance," he replied happily, giving Lance an affectionate noogie as he strolled away. He turned briefly to snap his fingerguns at the pair, but Keith immediately noticed that he didn't look directly at him, instead his focus was on Hunk. He tried to shrug the thought off. He knew Lance was hurting. It may have been his fault.

The yellow paladin waved as Lance left, a small chuckle escaping him, a smile on his lips- at least until the door shut behind him, and he faded. "Do you know what's up with Lance?" he asked softly, his voice nothing but concern for his best friend.

Keith paused, swallowing the rest of the water that had been in his cup. "No...?" That was more of a truth than a lot of what he'd said to Hunk, except the cookie part. He had no idea what was going on with Lance. The reminder made his head hurt, and he tried to shake it off.

" …Okay. I'm just... I'm just getting this weird kind of vibe from him, you know? Like something's wrong. Something that he doesn't want to tell us about." Hunk was frowning now, rubbing at his chin. "Or that might just be my friend vision acting up after everything we've gone through lately..." He shrugged a bit, looking at Keith. "I know that you and Lance don't get along very well, but I wanna get your opinion on this. Do you think something's wrong with Lance?"

Keith looked at his cup, setting it down slowly. "Um... well, I don't know." He bit his lower lip nervously. Would he rat Lance out to Hunk or would he wait for Lance to tell him when he was ready? Hunk would probably help Lance more than he would, but at the same time, he didn't want to break the Cuban boy's trust. He felt guilt creep up his throat and he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to meet chocolate eyes and a smile on a soft dark face.

"If you do know something, which I think you do, I know you're only holding back because you wanna take care of Lance. I get that." He smiled a little brighter, and one of the dozens of weights in Keith's chest felt like they were lightening. "I do that too. But if you do need something from me- if _he_ needs something from me, don't be afraid to tell me, okay? He might be upset but don't let that stop you. Lance... Lance honestly doesn't hold grudges, even though he acts like he does. Okay?"

Keith released a soft breath. Wow, Hunk was really good at lifting both literal and figurative weights off of people's backs. He nodded quietly, patting Hunk's hand as he looked back up at him. "Thanks, Hunk."

"Of course. Now, I don't wanna be pushy or anything, but the leader of the Paladins of Voltron needs his sleep. So go get some shut-eye, okay?" The Somalian teen chuckled softly. "We'll all be here in the morning, and so will the cookies."

Keith rolled his eyes with a light smirk, "Sure they will, if Pidge hasn't gotten to them already," he retorted gently, standing up and making his way towards the door that would lead him back to his room.

"Oh quiznak I didn't think of that- PiiIIIDGE-" Hunk squealed, running into the kitchen to check on his baked goods, and Keith laughed, putting a hand through his black hair.

But he still felt strange. Like there was a storm coming. Like something would begin soon that he would be incapable of stopping. Like somehow, in some way, this family that he'd found for himself would soon be torn to pieces.

And it scared him.

Oh god, did it scare him.


	5. chapter five

When Keith had walked in to that room with that sheepish, scolded puppy-dog look on his face, Lance had felt bad for being frustrated that he hadn't shown up. It was kind of like being angry at a baby. Yes, they were doing things that upset you, but it was only because they don't know whether it's a good or a bad thing. They're mostly doing it to test the waters- to figure out what society and the people they're surrounded with are okay with, and what they're not.

But the thing was, Keith wasn't a baby. He should know what he was doing, he should know the effect of his actions, and he should know that not showing up to fight alongside your intergalactic space defenders team has major consequences. If Shiro hadn't shown up, they'd all still be fighting- or be dead.

So when Keith finally walked in, yeah, Lance was mad, but he was also telling himself that he shouldn't be.

. . . * . . .

Keith's mind was a blur, but it was a sort of numb blur. He'd just lost a close friend that he could have saved. The mission could have gone so much better. He just lost his ally and he could barely even think because Kolivan had called it a 'sacrifice' and told him to move on. Like it was ever that easy. Like every time Keith had grown close to anyone there wasn't the intense fear of letting them go, so he pushed them away instead.

When he walked into the castle room, and every pair of eyes was trained on him, suddenly a pure flood of guilt washed over him. He had forgotten about the team. They were in their armor? What had happened? Why were they... angry? He felt his fingers clench. No, he knew why they were angry. He hadn't shown up to fight with them. Although he said he would.

God, he was such an idiot.

He looked down at his Blade of Marmora suit, incapable of looking at them for longer as he answered their questions, one word at a time. He was careful to leave out that An- that one of the other members had died on the mission he'd been on. He was careful not to seriously justify his actions, because he didn't feel they were justified.

He looked up again, and there was burning in the back of his eyes. They could have died, and it would have been all his fault. They could have died, just like- He swallowed slightly and shook his head, folding his arms and running a hand through his hair. And he wouldn't have been able to do anything to prevent it, because he didn't even know...

Keith bit his lip hard to refrain from breaking into tears. There was only one way to solve this problem. There was only one way to prevent the paladins from being seriously hurt. There was only one way that he wouldn't lose them.

They would lose Keith instead.

. . . * . . .

"I'm leaving the team," Keith had said, or at least, that's what Lance thought he had said, because thanks to how he was spiraling, that's all he got out of that. "For the Blade of Marmora."

Leaving the team.

Keith is leaving. Leaving the team.

 ** _Leaving._**

His brain was desperately trying to make sense of the situation but all it provided were dozens and dozens of questions.

What? Why? Did you meet someone? Are you hurt? Did you get knocked on the head a little too hard on the last mission? Something's wrong, I know it, what's wrong? Did something happen? Are people blackmailing you into leaving?… Is it my... is it my fault?

The other paladins had all said something. The thought struck him that he probably should, too. What he had meant to come out as 'Are you okay?' came out as "Who am I going to have to make fun of?" instead. How the hell does that even happen? Guilt swept over him as he spotted a brief flicker of pain cross over Keith's face.

God, he sounded like such an asshole. He hadn't meant for his words to come out like that- Keith brought so much more to the team than just being someone to make fun of. He brought more to the team than Lance ever did. Why did he think that he had to leave? His chest clenched and he felt a mist growing in his eyes.

. . . * . . .

Keith looked away from Lance, his heart aching, but not for the reason that the red paladin assumed. He couldn't keep up the friendship he made with Lance if he was going to leave. It would lighten the load for the both of them.

He had to pretend that he didn't have a crush on Lance. That he didn't want to run forwards and apologize and comfort Lance for everything that he's done. That he didn't want to break down and cry in front of them all.

He didn't recognize what was happening before it was. Shiro was hugging him close to his chest and then so were the others and in that moment there was nothing that he wanted to do more than stay. And he was smiling, holding on to the people he called his family as they cried, but he didn't.

But then he realized that he couldn't do this. Because if he kept acting like this, kept letting himself melt into their arms and be okay that he could potentially stay, they'd only end up hurt. He would only lose them eventually. And he couldn't let that happen.

So Keith was the one to pull out of the hug first. He ignored what he wanted and thought of what he needed. He needed them to stay safe. He glanced at Lance and the others and gave a short nod, murmuring a quiet, "I better go pack."

Each person nodded in turn, but if Lance did or didn't, Keith couldn't tell, because he didn't look at him. If he did, he had a feeling that his heart would break into a million pieces. He just not his lower lip, forced a short-lived smile onto his lips, and walked away.

To pack. To leave. To say goodbye.

. . . * . . .

Lance watched Keith go with a sort of hollowness in his chest and throat. It was like whatever words he had wanted to say had been ripped out him, leaving a coldness that could never be filled. It was strange. The part-Galran he had once called his rival hadn't even left yet, and here he was, mourning the loss.

A small hand rested on his back, a larger, warmer one landing on his shoulder. Pidge and Hunk, offering comfort. His jaw clenched painfully and he simply closed his cerulean blue eyes, letting his chin drop to his armored chest.

"I'm gonna go get changed I think," he said, a forced lightness to his tone. The other paladins would probably assume he had to force it because they were all feeling the loss of Keith, but for Lance, it was much more than that. It was like everything he'd done wrong in the last several months was building up on his back, and if he didn't do something to relieve it he'd be crushed beneath the immense weight.

"Okay," Pidge murmured, watching as the red paladin turned to briefly face her. Her coppery eyes were rimmed with red- Lance knew that the little green girl would undoubtedly take it hard, especially since that she and Keith were so close. He was like another brother to her. And now she was losing a second one. "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"Same applies here Lance, if you wanna talk, we can." Hunk was the next to speak, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. The red paladin couldn't look at him, he knew that Hunk would do everything in his power to try to help him and he just didn't want to end up hurting him in the process.

He hurt Keith, so he'll definitely hurt someone as sensitive as Hunk. It's that easy.

Lance just smiled and nodded, his gaze briefly catching on the Altean princess that watched him with sad, blue eyes. She cared. That was strange. And Shiro... well. He would never be the man Shiro wanted him to be.

He exited the room without another word to any of the other paladins, and they didn't say anything either. When he walked down the hall he felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He simply wiped them away as he walked into his room, starting to remove his armor piece by piece. He couldn't cry like this, not now. Especially when the other paladins seemed to expect him to be strong.

He pulled off the black undersuit and threw on his classic tee shirt and jeans, sighing heavily. He was starting to grow out of these clothes, but undoubtedly they had some altean tech to fix that somewhere on this ship. But it wasn't important now.

Lance grabbed his sneakers and a pair of socks, attempting to pull them on while he made his way down the hall. It was a bit of a struggle, since his mind was somewhere else entirely. On Keith. Hoping that he'd warm up to Lance. Hoping that he would tell him what was happening. He leaned against the wall for a short moment as he pulled the heel of his hightop up, clearing his throat and knocking on Keith's door.

The last time the red paladin had done this was when he had come in to admit to Keith that he considered himself a seventh wheel. Someone that was not at all useful to the team, someone that could just be left behind, someone that didn't really matter in the scheme of things. His heart had been sitting in his throat when he was speaking to the black paladin then. He was thinking of what had happened a few nights before, when they had 'coincidentally' met up in the dining room when Keith had gone for a midnight snack.

And throughout it all, Keith was endlessly understanding. His violet eyes were soft, a smile was on his face, and he even complimented Lance several times. "Leave the math to Pidge, Lance, " he had said, no doubt or concern in his eye. It had been heartwarming. Reassuring. And for a moment, Lance might have even felt wanted.

But now, Lance feared that Keith wasn't taking his own advice. That he was trying to leave for his sake, so that he felt like he was needed. It was never what Lance wanted. It would never be what Lance wanted. Although he called the other male his rival, he wanted... he wanted-

"Come in." Keith's flat, expressionless voice called, and Lance's scar ached.

. . . * . . .

The door opened up, and out of the corner of his eye, Keith saw the lanky red paladin walk in. He clenched his jaw and shifted a bit, trying to refocus on what he was doing, forcing himself to tune out whatever Lance was going to say. He couldn't let Lance in. Why did he even show up in the first place? He didn't need help. He just needed to disconnect from the other paladins. From Lance.

To protect him.

Or at least, that was what he was telling himself.

When Lance walked in, he was expecting some sort of greeting. Whether it was simple recognition, a welcome, or a dismissal. But when he didn't get any, he just... shrugged it off and tried to smile. "Hey Keith," he said softly , taking a few steps into the mostly empty bedroom. There was a dresser on one side and a bed with drawers beneath on the other. This space had become familiar to him, mostly because of how many times he had visited it. He looked around momentarily before letting his gaze land back on Keith, his smile fading a bit.

The Blade member had said nothing in response, continuing to pull things from the drawers beneath the bed. They were mostly gifts from other planets, ones that were used as a thanks for saving them. He was sorting them into a discard or keep pile. There were no 'maybes.' If they wouldn't be useful or necessary, they would be left here or thrown out. It was an understatement to say that the discard pile was larger than the keep pile.

The sight sent a sort of pain through Lance's heart. He bit his lower lip hard before speaking again, "Do you want me to help you pack?" He tried to keep up his bright tone, but since Keith wasn't looking at him at all, he let his smile fall. It took up more energy than he needed it to in this situation. He was already exhausted from the most recent battle. He started to wander over to the dresser, pausing and looking over his shoulder at the male he called his friend.

But again, he received no reply.

Keith's jaw had set, black hair falling over his mysterious eyes as he paused in his packing briefly. Maybe he could tell him no, maybe he could tell him that he should just leave, maybe he could tell him what was wrong and admit that it was his own fault that they were going through this, but he didn't. He was silent instead. The words just wouldn't come out. So he just continued, unhooking his blade from his belt and dropping it unceremoniously onto the bed.

The Cuban teen was starting to feel the tensity of the situation more and more in the scar of his back, so he quietly rubbed it for a few moments, reaching an arm over its shoulder and sighing. He grabbed one of the bags that Keith had thrown into the corner, setting it on the floor. He didn't know what he was supposed to say to him anymore. He wouldn't get a response. He felt like he had to say *something* though. To fill this horrible silence between them.

"Are you excited to keep working with the Blade?" he asked softly, finding his gaze lingering on a few photo frames that had been placed face down on the top of the dresser. He picked up the first hesitantly, but when he looked at it, a lump formed in his throat. It was Keith, along with the other paladins, all of them jumbled together in a hug, laughing and smiling. Keith was too. He had a light in his eyes that the camera was somehow able to capture. The sight hurt his heart, but also warmed it.

Lance placed it with extreme gentleness in the bag, not realizing how long it had taken him to get over himself. Keith was quietly watching him now, not turned all the way to face him, but his head was tilted sideways, his hands idle at his sides. He wondered if he should interfere, if he should step in and prevent him from looking at the pictures, but he felt like he couldn't move. He was just... admiring Lance. Even though that was the exact opposite of what he should be doing.

The next photograph was of the four, younger human paladins; Lance and Keith were leaning in to rest on Hunk's stomach and Pidge was in the middle, wearing a rather cheesy pair of sunglasses and a similar grin. Lance was winking and had his tongue out, Keith had his eyes closed and was smiling, and Hunk was laughing. It brought a small, shakier sort of smile to the red paladin's lips, but at least it was a genuine one.

Keith looked away at that point, trying to refocus on the knife that was sitting on his mattress. He knew Lance was hurting. He could practically feel the pain himself. But he had to refuse the urge to go and comfort him. He let his fingers wrap around the hilt of the blade slowly, lifting and testing its familiar weight in his hands.

Lance let loose a shaky breath. Suddenly he asked, "Are you excited to leave us?" And something violent snapped in Keith's chest, because he knew those words were coning, but he also realized what he had to do.

For Lance to let him go, Keith had to force his way out.

He threw his blade into his suitcase and whipped around, letting his violet eyes fill with anger that Lance would think was directed at him. "Why would you think that?"

Lance flinched in surprise, tucking the photo frame with the other into the bag. "I don't know Keith, no one's stopping you from staying and being the black paladin," he replied carefully, gazing into Keith's eyes with a soft of apprehension. He had absolutely no idea where this anger had come from. He didn't think he had done anything wrong. "I mean, I'd really like for you to stay-"

"Shiro's a better leader than I am. He'll take better care of the team. He'll take better care of you." Keith's voice was rough, moving past Lance to get to the dresser and begin taking his clothes out of it.

"But you can still stay, Keith." He stepped out of the way, watching the angered part-Galran marched past him with an armful of shirts. He hesitantly followed him, reaching to put his hand on his shoulder.

"It's not that easy, Lance." He yanked his shoulder out of his grip, causing him to flinch again. This time, Keith felt it.

Lance ran a hand through his hair, feeling his arms starting to shake. "What's not easy about it?" The quiver carried into his voice, but he tried to fight it. He didn't understand what was happening. One second they were close, the next Keith was going off on him like he'd just destroyed his trust. And he didn't think he had. He didn't know what had changed.

"Does it matter?" Keith's tone was short, unfeeling, just the way he wanted it to be. He shoved the shirts into the suitcase frustratedly, trying to express the pain he felt through his actions. He just couldn't tell Lance.

"Yes! It does!" The hands sliding through Lance's hair became tense, tugging on the mahogany curls in an upset manner. "You can stay here and take Red back, and I'll just-" he cut off, unable to finish. He didn't know what he'd do.

Keith had known from the start that Lance's words would become bullets against him. And he hated that he was the one to fire them back. "Have someone to make fun of?"

Lance's face went pale. He felt sick. "You know that's not all you-"

"All I what, Lance?" Keith laughed bitterly. "All I provide? Because it sure as hell seems like it. I'm always the butt of your jokes-"

"You know that's not what I meant!" Lance was yelling at that point, and it was like a sword had been shoved through Keith's stomach, it hurt that much. He looked up to see that tears were forming in the former blue paladin's eyes, and as much as the sight killed him, he couldn't let up now.

"Then what did you mean, Lance?" he spat, marching closer to him and grabbing him by the shirt collar. "That's all I've ever been. Someone to tease. Someone to laugh at. Someone to consider your rival. That's all I've ever been to you Lance. A competitor in a competition you have to win. And guess what, Lance, you've. Won." His expression was tense, he was snarling out the words like a dog. But then he looked at Lance's eyes, and it broke.

They were a deep, dark, cold blue, spilling over with fresh tears. They reminded Keith of the ocean, and Keith was scared of the ocean. He couldn't believe that he was the one to do this to Lance. He didn't *

want to do this to Lance.

And then Lance spoke, and it was soft, his mocha hands grasping into the hands that clung to his shirt.

"I didn't want this," he whispered, his hands gently sliding up Keith's arms, up to cup his face.

Keith didn't move, didn't speak. He felt frozen. He felt empty. He felt like the anger he had just expelled was useless. Because he wanted to believe that this was going to be the relationship between he and Lance. That he would go off, and Lance would understand. And Lance would be kind.

"I came in here wanting you to stay..." Suddenly his face hardened, and Keith's chest clenched. The tears in Lance's eyes were only spilling faster.

"But if you're going to say complete and utter shit like that after everything we've done together. Everything I've tried to give you. Everything you've given me. Then you should leave." He pulled away entirely, his broad chest vibrating with the pain and emotion he felt.

Keith just stared at him for a few moments, resisting the urge to react at all. He couldn't. This is what he wanted. But guilt was weighing down on him, as if an elephant had decided to sit on his chest. He looked down, hands hanging idle at his sides.

Lance's next words were choked, strangled. "But I still don't want you to go."

Keith nodded slightly. He knew he didn't. But..

"Goodbye, Lance," he whispered softly, incapable of meeting those blue eyes that healed him and broke him all at once.

And Lance didn't linger for long; he just left.

And Keith didn't feel the relief he thought he would at all, he just felt numb. He felt like he'd given up something huge, he felt like there was no way he would get it back.

He stood in his empty room, alone and staring at the blank floor. He slowly looked up and his violet gaze caught on the third frame, the one that Lance hadn't packed away. The one he hadn't touched.

He found himself walking over, running his fingers over the smooth back of it. He knew what picture was held in this frame. A lump he swore was the size of a golf ball rose in his throat. He picked it up carefully, letting it rest in his soft ivory fingers for a moment before he flipped it up to let it see the light.

It was of Keith and Lance. Lance had taken the picture when they were at the space mall, somehow convincing Keith to pose with him. It wasn't anything too special or extreme; it was just them. Lance with an arm over Keith's shoulders, Keith frowning slightly in a moment of 'Why am I doing this' and a grin on the then blue paladin's face that could never be struck from Keith's memory.

It took his breath away then, and it took his breath away now, but he supposed it was for separate reasons.

One was because he couldn't believe that he was blessed enough to see it, the other was that he had cursed himself enough that he would never see it again.

Keith Kogane simply fell to his knees, clutching the memory of what they had been before, and cried.


End file.
